


The Bizarre Room

by JCMorrigan



Category: Kingdom Hearts, RWBY, The Boxtrolls (2014), a few cameos from other fandoms - based on a larger crossover project
Genre: And now I'm unstoppable, Awkward, Established Relationship, Groping, HAHAHA I FINALLY FOUND OUT WHAT THE OFFICIAL TERM FOR THIS IS, I seriously write crossover hell, INCREDIBLY AWKWARD, In Medias Res, M/M, TBTC lost episodes, Tight Spaces, bonding over humiliation, but not by any means unwanted groping, if you wanna read this one without TBTC you have to go with the flow a bit, innuendos aplenty, it's just. Awkward, just wanted to do something a little different with these two, related to TBTC but not necessarily canon to it, sensuality/intimacy in a scene that isn't inherently sex, stuck, stuckage, the Kingdom Hearts version of Wonderland, this has no plot though, wedged, would you believe the stuck in a wall trope WITHOUT anyone stripping?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 13:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20694689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JCMorrigan/pseuds/JCMorrigan
Summary: Roman Torchwick and Archibald Snatcher are two operatives for a multi-world villainous collective of conquerors - but that part isn't relevant today. Today, they're lagging behind on a mission in a world their boss is scoping out for his empire, which wouldn't be so bad if that world didn't like to play tricks on those who cross its threshold. It isn't long before Snatcher finds himself in a very tight spot. It's a good thing Roman's there to give him a literal push in the right direction.***A "lost episode" of sorts for my larger project, Taking Back the Crown, though I have my reasons that this wouldn't necessarily fit into the main story of that. Diving into this without having looked at that will require a little going with the flow on the crossover universe setup and villain alliances. This is also INCREDIBLY awkward. If you're cool with that, full speed ahead.





	The Bizarre Room

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the summary, this is set within the larger universe of my longfic project "Taking Back the Crown," in which Roman and Snatcher are part of a crossover villain alliance run by Mozenrath (Aladdin) and featuring Mad Madam Mim (The Sword in the Stone), Wuya (Xiaolin Showdown), Ayam Aghoul (Aladdin), the Huntsman (American Dragon: Jake Long), and Yzma (The Emperor's New Groove). (They're the WHAM ARMY because acronyms are fun.) However, this isn't necessarily canon to that story, nor does it have a real place to belong in such a way that I'd write this out within that story. So, if you want to be spared the backstory and just get to what this odd crossover rarepair is doing dealing with narrow spaces, TL;DR - Mozenrath wants to take over, like, all the worlds, and he sends out teams of his villain pals to scope 'em out. And that's what's happening in the context here. Other villains get namedropped that might give you an idea of what else all is going on over in the main universe.
> 
> And, hey, if you wanna check that 100+ chapter crossover hell longfic out after this, I don't mind. Or you can just enjoy this out-of-context moment of my favorite villain ship undergoing an awkward and suggestive sort of bonding experience.

Wonderland was a bizarre world to be certain. It didn’t make any sort of logical sense to begin with. That would have been bad enough. However, its dreamlike nature lent itself well to a constant flux. Wonderland was always generally similar in its layout, but never exactly the same. Sometimes, it even liked to play tricks on visitors.

Had Roman Torchwick and Archibald Snatcher known this, they probably wouldn’t have volunteered for the reconnaissance mission Mozenrath had decided was oh-so-important there.

Wuya and Mim had gone on ahead of them, partly because they’d taken off early to have a good laugh about leaving their cohorts behind and partly because the two aforementioned men were late to the assigned time anyway, having enjoyed a bit of a roll in the figurative hay. Now, fully dressed and dapper, they found themselves floating – no, not falling, floating – down a colorful chasm that seemed to be filled with furniture.

“Well, this already bodes well,” Roman said sarcastically as he placed his hands behind his head, kicking into a reclining position. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to be the world that finally maxes out my bullshit meter?”

“Do attempt to look at this in an optimistic light,” Snatcher encouraged, taking more of a sitting position on no chair at all. “It’s certainly a change of scenery.”

Roman made a huff-groan combination that indicated he didn’t agree with the sentiment.

“Torchwick,” Snatcher insisted flatly, “if you don’t at least attempt the charade, I’ll never be able to keep it up on my own. This whole environment already makes me feel…uneasy.”

“Preachin’ to the choir, Archie.”

“No, I don’t like it one bit,” Snatcher went on, “but we’ve got to learn to if we’re to get anywhere. Especially if this is going to become a permanent part of our domain.”

“If Righty wants to add the bottomless pit of discount furniture to his empire, that’s none of my business.”

“And yet it is our duty to secure it.” Snatcher watched an upside-down cuckoo clock float up past him; the chiming cuckoo piece was shaped like a cross between a bird and an octopus. “No matter how bizarre it might be.”

At last, the floor arrived, and the two men maneuvered into such positions that the soles of their shoes deposited neatly down and left them in standing positions. They took a moment to adjust their jackets and hats to perfect straightness before proceeding down a short hallway patterned in reds, pinks, and whites.

“Are we even in a building?” Roman asked. “I thought we got zapped into a rabbit hole. A huge-ass rabbit hole.”

“Recall the warnings,” Snatcher said warily, his eyes flicking about. “Nothing follows logical sense here.”

“Right, because that makes me feel SO much more confident that I know what I’m doing.”

“Come off it, Torchwick. We’ve work to do.”

Snatcher led the way down the hall, and at its end, they came upon a door set into a flat wall. “There could be anything beyond this door,” Snatcher related. “Be on your guard.”

“I hate this. So fucking much. If I didn’t get to bring you, I probably would’ve blown my brains out after texting Righty to resurrect me in an hour.”

“Torchwick, we haven’t even encountered anything truly bizarre yet!”

“And I am not in the mood for it!”

“Perhaps it’s all just been bluster,” Snatcher suggested with a somewhat forced smile. “Stuff and nonsense. Did you think of that? Beyond this door will be a perfectly ordinary, non-bizarre room with nothing to worry about.”

With that, he swung open the large cream-colored door.

Revealing the angular blue door behind it.

Roman folded his arms. “You were saying?”  
“Behind THIS door,” Snatcher amended. “An ordinary room – “

No. It was a third door. Brown this time. And each door diminished noticeably in size from the previous; while the first had seemed a little overlarge, this door was of a height that Roman would have to stoop to clear the upper edge.

“If there’s a fourth door under there,” Roman declared, “I’m seriously gonna lose my shit.”

“Not in here. You’ll attract flies.”

“HA.”

Normally, it did stop at three doors. However, today, Wonderland was feeling playful. Especially since its aura registered that there were villains afoot – those with more sinister goals than the Queen of Hearts. Not that Wonderland would try to actively stop them (it had never attempted anything of the sort with Luxord, though, then again, Luxord is an anomaly in every case), but the heart of the world did enjoy a prank or two.

Therefore, it added a fourth door.

“THAT’S IT!” Roman yelled. “IT’S JUST DOORS AND DOORS AND DOORS, ISN’T IT?”

Now Snatcher was thoroughly frustrated, and hastily went about flinging the doors the world had added until he was down to the last. This one, a bright red portal, was now less than his knee height off the ground and equally wide. Snatcher was kneeling by this point in order to even open it. But finally, at long last, he could glimpse the other side.

“See?” he said with a dramatic gesture. “Ordinary room.”

Roman knelt down, bending at the waist to compensate for his height. He peered through. What lay on the other side appeared to be an ordinary room, all right. A table here, a potted plant there, a pleasant white color scheme.

“Huh,” Roman remarked. “So what’s the catch…?”

“Need there be one?” Snatcher asked.

“Not necessarily,” Roman murmured. “Just with all the hullaballoo, I was expecting something a bit more…Discord-core. Also for this to bite us in the ass somehow.”

“A bridge we can cross if we arrive at it,” Snatcher stated confidently. “For now, let us proceed to – “

He had gotten down on hand and knee to begin crossing the threshold. That was when it hit him. The catch. It was obvious, really. He paused, somewhat nervous.

“What’s wrong?” Roman asked with a tone that betrayed worry, perhaps that Snatcher had spotted some unforeseen horrid monster in the shadows.

“…Nothing,” Snatcher replied unconvincingly. “Nothing at all. All’s well. Go on, then, after you.”

“After me? Archie, is there something weird on the other side of that door? Are you using me as a canary?”

Now Snatcher was rightly miffed. “Me, use you as a canary in a coal mine!” he scoffed. “Would I do such a thing?”

“No,” Roman mused. “Which is why this is so weird. Unless…”

He dropped to his hands and knees, centering himself before the door. And now he saw it.

“Ohhhh,” he said in realization.

Snatcher flushed. He did not need this pointed out. Not today. “See? Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing bizarre. Now go along and catch up with the others. I’ll be along. Just some business to attend to first, matters I truly can’t believe I forgot – “

Roman had leaned up into a kneeling position, giving Snatcher an accusatory look.

“Reconnaissance isn’t going to conduct itself,” Snatcher told Roman, gesturing to the door with both hands.

“The door,” Roman said flatly.

“Yes. It is a door. We have established this.”

“It is a very SMALL door.”

Snatcher swallowed hard. “Also very true.”

“You don’t think you can – “

“Now stop right there, Torchwick,” Snatcher said with renewed steel in his voice. “Anything you’re about to insinuate…well, you can simply un-insinuate it!”

“Look,” Roman sighed, “it is not a big deal. Well, okay, in this case, it kind of is, all considered, but it’s me. What have you not been able to talk about with me, Archie?”

“This,” Snatcher muttered.

“Let’s just get it off the table,” Roman sighed. “I go through that door first, you’re not catching up, are you?”

“I don’t know WHY you would ever – “

“You would wait. Out here. For me to come back. Leaving me alone in the weird world until I find Mim and Wuya, neither of whom is known for showing kindness to poor lost travelers. Essentially, you would be making me the canary.”

“Well,” Snatcher now growled, “knowing what you know, what would you RATHER me do?”

“Not sure yet.” Roman glanced at the door. “Just so we’re on the same page, we are talking about how this door looks just a bit too small…for you.”

“Yes,” Snatcher sighed. “Yes, we are. It’ll be no trouble for you, that’s certain. So get on with it. There’s not much else to be done.”

“I mean, I could wait out here with you,” Roman suggested.

“Even you’re not that sentimental,” Snatcher grunted.

“Think of it as playing hooky,” Roman went on. “You, me, I have a pack of cards in this coat, I really wish I’d brought a condom or two but that’s not the only source of entertainment we have, we just kick back and relax and let the ladies do the hard work. After all, are we not twenty-first century feminists? Do we not believe the two of them can take care of this WITHOUT a pair of men stepping in?”

Snatcher nodded, thinking it over. “Possible, possible…”

“Though there is ONE other option.” Roman glanced back at the doorway. “Not sure how much you’re gonna like it, but…”

“And that is?”

The moment the question left Snatcher’s lips, he knew. “Torchwick, no.”

“We don’t KNOW for sure, Archie. It looks like it’ll be a tight fit, buuuuut…I dunno. You might be able to make that. I’m sure if Yz-Mom were here, she’d whip out a measuring tape and crunch the numbers.”

Now Snatcher re-evaluated the door. “I really am airing on the safe side,” he admitted. “It’s rather difficult to judge, really. Were I wrong, however…the results would be disastrous at worst, humiliating at best.”

“Really, though?” Roman retorted. “Let’s say worst-case happens and you get…well…I’m just going to put it bluntly: stuck like a cork in a wine bottle.”

“Torchwick, you know I appreciate poetic turns of phrase, but MUST you?”

“A…sexy cork in a wine bottle?”

“That’s not better. However, I’m going to let it go, because it’s you.”

“Anyway,” Roman went on, “it’s not, like, impossibly small, right? And you’re…squishy. There’s some wiggle room here, literally speaking. Also, you’re not alone, so there’s that.”

“I could hardly ask you to…” Snatcher trailed off.

“Help out?” Roman finished. “Is it just the embarrassment factor here? Because depending on which side I’m on, I’m pretty sure I’ve both been in your arms and had my hand on your ass so much, I’m overqualified for the job.”

“It IS embarrassing, to put it lightly,” Snatcher clarified. “To have you see me so UNDIGNIFIED.”

“Archie. Are we forgetting the jail cell window back in Knightdock? Glass houses.”

“Well, you didn’t have a negative self-image to begin with,” Snatcher muttered.

“And admitting the problem is the first step to recovery!” Roman told him. “Listen. I see this as a win-win. You get hung up, I give you a hand, we move past it, now we’ve done that milestone! It’s less embarrassing already! Seriously, it’s just you and me. I’m NOT going to be making any undue cracks.”

“And if it isn’t as much wiggle room as you expected?” Snatcher retorted. “Say going in means no getting back out.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Roman told him. “No. Seriously. You get far enough in one way, you can just come back out the way you came.”

“More likely than the other outcome,” Snatcher murmured, mind drifting to the general taper of his figure.

“Come on,” Roman groaned, “I do NOT wanna do this world alone. So either suck it up and suck it in or we can stay out here. Your choice.”

Snatcher was about to answer, quite firmly, that he would prefer to stay outside the narrow frame and just while away the hours until Wuya and Mim were through with their investigation. What stopped him was his natural drive for ambition. He was not a lazy person by any stretch. And when presented with the possibility of being able to overcome what would hopefully be a minor obstacle before getting back to business and carrying out his assignment, he had to admit the payoff was worth it. Or so it seemed at the time.

“All right, you win,” he sighed. “Don’t make me regret this.”

A look of genuine concern crossed Roman’s face. “Just so we’re clear, you’re saying this because – “

“Because I want this job done right, Torchwick, and the only way that happens is if WE do it.”

Roman nodded, knowing Snatcher was sincere in that. “Okay. Next question. What order.”

“What order what again?”  
“What order do we go through.”

Snatcher did a double take. “Is it not obvious? You go first. That way, should it be required that I remain behind, you may proceed.”

“Yes, but as I said, you’ll get to one side of the door or the other eventually, so me going first literally does not matter unless you think you’re ACTUALLY going to end up stuck there permanently.”

“Right,” Snatcher sniffed, “then, how would YOU do it?”

“I mean, pros and cons,” Roman mused. “On one hand, I’m guessing the humiliation factor gets downplayed if I’m on the other end if – and I will remind you this is completely hypothetical – you get hung up. On the other, I dunno…kinda feels like we run the risk of me accidentally dislocating your shoulder if I have to go that route, whereas if I were behind, well, then everything would be in front of me, if you get my meaning, and that just seems more productive. Also a consideration: your delicious ass.”

“A logical argument for you remaining behind,” Snatcher mulled over, “accompanied by an obvious attempt at flattery.” He then pointed accusatorily at Roman; “You of all people should know that is not fair play whatsoever.”

“Because it always works?”

“I suppose you win again,” Snatcher sighed. “After all, perhaps there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Look, I have got your back. Literally. When have I not?”

“If this goes less than swimmingly,” Snatcher asserted, “I am blaming you.”

Roman shrugged. “I’ll take it.”

So Snatcher re-examined the door on hands and knees. “Very well,” he sighed, resigning himself to what could potentially be one of the most humiliating experiences of his life. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

Roman sat back and watched as Snatcher crawled forward – then hesitated a moment. “Just to be safe…” Snatcher removed his scroll from his pocket, sliding it through the doorway first. Then went his hat, which was set off to the side. “NOW let’s get this over with.”

Roman flashed him a grin and two overdramatic thumbs up before he went.

The moment he really began to pass through the frame, Snatcher knew this was not going to go without at least some struggle. For one, he already had to tilt his shoulders slightly to get them to fit. His hands clawed out onto the floor of the seemingly-not-bizarre room on the other side, and his upper body slid through with minimal effort.

Where his stomach began to widen out was where problems really began. He crawled forward until merely that action wasn’t enough; his width barred him from simply easing on through. Still, he wasn’t really in trouble yet. He attacked the problem by withdrawing his stomach as much as he could, holding his breath, squeezing tight.

That allowed him a little more progress, albeit slow. He wriggled on until he couldn’t stand to hold his breath a moment longer, and he paused, letting himself breathe, his midsection expanding to fill up the frame in a somewhat uncomfortable fashion.

“You doin’ okay over there?” Roman asked, having noticed the pause. His words came through muffled, yet audible. So the wall wouldn’t deter them from communicating. That was good.

“I have the situation under control,” Snatcher replied, perhaps a bit more harshly than intended. “I just need a moment, that’s all.”

Roman got the message: don’t help unless asked specifically to help. Which he should’ve known anyway. It was a pride thing, and one they both shared.

Snatcher held his breath steady for another squeeze, inching forward little by little as he kept his stomach as withdrawn as it could become. Again he had to pause, catching his breath. This really was an effort, and a tiring one at that. He’d been a fool to think this might be over in a matter of minutes. Again he resumed, squirming, wriggling, forcing himself into the narrow frame.

Then he found he was simply too winded to hold his stomach back a moment longer, and he gave up trying to restrain his breathing for that purpose. Thankfully, he’d managed to worm his way half into the room beyond by that point, and his stomach wasn’t as much a hindrance in his current position.

However, where it gave over to his hips and what lay below was a bigger problem. As he braced both hands on the wall he was currently lodged in, he gave a great heave and an involuntary grunt, only to be rewarded with nothing. His backside simply refused to pass through the frame. He pressed more firmly against the wall, mentally cursing and even slightly panicking. There was no give to be had: only discomfort. A release, and then another heave forward. A more drawn-out groan of frustration and effort. Oh, now there was some sign of an effect, but it wasn’t progress forward. He could hear the frame that bound him creaking, threatening to pull out of the wall along with him. Now, that wasn’t a good sign at all.

He’d gone and gotten himself thoroughly wedged.

Now, how to broach the subject with his partner? Snatcher thought it over a moment, reluctant to admit anything. Roman, of course, had suspected this was the halting point. He’d watched Snatcher’s progress from behind (which was not an unpleasant sight in the least as far as he was concerned) and observed that even when it was slow going, it was still going. Now that it was only his rearmost and widest left to push through, he hadn’t been able to budge at all. His shoes slid and scrambled against the tile of the hall, searching for purchase to propel forward. As for his backside, well, he was definitely trying, and it wasn’t getting anywhere at all, just sort of bouncing back from any attempt.

“This is your fault,” Snatcher managed.

Roman nodded, even though he knew Snatcher couldn’t see. “I know. This is my bad. I fucked up.” Teasingly, of course, but still hiding some concern.

“As much as I know you must be enjoying the view,” Snatcher grunted, still pressing the wall behind him hard, “I would appreciate far less ogling and a little more ASSISTANCE.”

“Okay, fine, fine,” Roman replied. “You don’t have to twist my arm. Not that you can reach it – “

“TORCHWICK!” 

Well, Roman thought, perhaps that was a quip too far. “Right.”

He centered himself behind Snatcher, sizing up the situation (quite literally). From what he could perceive, well, he wasn’t quite sure, but it looked as though despite this door being an extremely tight fit, it shouldn’t be impossible. All his partner needed was a little help. “Okay,” he stated, “doesn’t look too bad from here. One good push should do it.”

“Then do hurry up about it!”

The strain in Snatcher’s voice was almost pitiable. It would’ve been completely pitiable if Roman hadn’t been acutely aware of how much his partner hated pity. “All right, here goes nothing.”

He settled his hands on Snatcher’s backside, which was more than familiar territory. It crossed his mind that even though its ampleness wasn’t really helping this situation much, it certainly had its benefits in other ways. (To think that others would’ve turned him down over it was just madness.) No, no, no time to get distracted here. Roman made sure each hand was centered over half. Then, rather gently, he pushed.

Though it wasn’t a push so much as a forceful nudge. He’d thought that just adding a little bit of force from this end would be enough to finish the job. He was quickly made aware of how much he’d underestimated the situation. When met with resistance, he pushed a little harder. Then a little harder than that. Flesh squished beneath his palms, sandwiching up between his hands and the frame, without really giving an inch.

Snatcher could feel the pressure from behind, steadily increasing, and the fact that it wasn’t really helping was starting to set off his panic response. “Hurry it up, Torchwick!” he spat.

“Yeah, I am!” Roman replied, shoving and shoving. “Just gimme a sec, okay?” Then a few grunts escaped him.

“I take it – “ Snatcher hissed through clenched teeth, pressing ever harder against the wall, “a good push – was NOT – all it took.”

“I’m working on it! I may not have exactly given it my best shot the first time!”

“Oh, I am never getting out of here, am I?” Snatcher moaned, letting his guard down to betray his fear. “I should NOT have let you talk me into this.”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s fine!” Roman tried to reassure him, pushing, failing, re-gathering his strength, pushing again. “It’s not – I’m not even breaking a sweat.” (An accurate if crude and dismaying comparison was trying to shove the whole Blue-2 airship across a field. Uphill.)

“Don’t lie to me, Torchwick.”

Roman gave up for the moment, leaning back with a sigh. “Okay,” he admitted. “You’re stuck there. You are VERY stuck there. But I SAID I had your back, and I MEAN I have your back, got it?” He reached out, gently patting Snatcher’s hindquarters in reassurance. “I’m not going anywhere. And I’d say five minutes tops before we get you out of there.”

Whatever horrid thing Snatcher had done to deserve getting stuck in a narrow doorway (and really, it wasn’t so much disbelief that there had been a sin as trying to figure out which one it was) was obviously balanced out by whatever good thing he’d happened to do to deserve Roman Torchwick. “All right. But this obviously isn’t getting us anywhere, so have you got any better ideas?”

“I’m gonna give it one more go,” Roman told him, “but you’re gonna have to help me out here. You have to squeeze, and you have to wiggle.”

Snatcher was about to respond as to what, exactly, Roman thought he’d been doing on his end, but he realized that he perhaps hadn’t been putting his all into it given his state of – no, not anxiety, he refused to give it such a name that betrayed his own weakness – and could stand to try once more. “All right, on your count.”

“What, I get to count now?”

“Just do it,” Snatcher sighed. “I truly don’t want to spend even five minutes longer here.”

“Okay.” Roman cracked his knuckles, then his neck. “One…two…and GO!”

He pressed hard against Snatcher, pushing with his every fiber, hands struggling against flesh that he could feel alternately going taut then slack, its owner unsure whether it was better to try and tighten up or to be as malleable as possible.

As Snatcher worked in that regard, he also put some wriggle into his hips, rocking side to side, hoping that would get him somewhere.

A solid minute passed, underscored by grunting and moaning that would’ve sounded quite lewd in nature to anyone with only the audio of the situation. Then a desperate cry of “ENOUGH, Torchwick, that’s not DOING anything!”

Roman backed off, and now he could really hear the stress in Snatcher’s voice. If he was becoming that bad of an actor, well, Roman had to come up with a new idea quickly. His first thought was to gently lay his hand once again on the red coattails before him, lightly drumming his fingers in a gesture of brainstorming. “Okay. So. Traditional method, no go. Would you believe I am yet again regretting that I don’t have lube in my pockets? …Not the time for jokes, is it? So we’re left with – “

“I’ve got to go back the way I came,” Snatcher resolved. “There’s no going forward. I’ve got to get out of here. We’ll talk what comes after when there is an after.”

“Fair,” Roman resolved. No, he still didn’t want to head off into Wonderland’s dark depths by his lonesome, but really, that wasn’t the most important thing on the plate right now. “You want my help on this, or you got it?”

“I should be able to manage,” Snatcher stated, “seeing as I’ve come this far.”

Roman shifted off to the side, leaning against the very wall that was holding his partner prisoner. “All right. See you on the other side.”

Snatcher now braced his hands on the tile floor before him, pushing backward with all his might. To his horror, his stomach merely bulged against the frame of the door, and he suddenly recalled all the effort he’d had to put into getting halfway – effort he was still winded from. He tried to once again withdraw, make himself just that much thinner, but to no avail; he couldn’t hold his breath for more than a few seconds, and his stomach demanded it be at full capacity in order to breathe. (The repercussions of training oneself to breathe from the stomach rather than the chest for proper singing technique.) All of the energy he’d put into trying to move forward had used him up to a good degree as well.

“Torchwick,” he panted, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” the reply came from behind. “You got IN there, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but not without considerable effort that I can’t – I simply can’t hold it in for a moment longer,” Snatcher explained, becoming more and more distressed. “Torchwick…” No. He wouldn’t break down. He wouldn’t plea. Hardening his voice: “Do lend me a hand, won’t you?”

“I gotcha.” Snatcher could feel a hand wrapping around each thigh. “Say the word.”

“Do it. Do it now!”

He braced his hands again, shoved hard. Roman tugged, again, gently at first, and they both realized it was out of reluctance to cause Snatcher any pain in either direction. The resistance became clear, and Roman increased the force of his hauling.

It was about as productive as trying to go the other way.

“Pull,” Snatcher hissed, now becoming almost frantic. “Pull, Torchwick, pull!”

“Um, does it feel like I’m NOT?”

“Harder,” Snatcher pleaded. “You’ve got to pull harder.”

So Roman did as he was told, and with no success whatsoever. (Now it was like trying to drag Blue-2 uphill.) “Come on…” he muttered, “come on…”

Then he, too, was winded, and he released his hold. “Well, then,” he remarked.

“All you can say is ‘WELL, THEN’?” Snatcher cried.

“Keep your coat on,” Roman told him calmly. Though that was a bit of a façade. “For what is going to be the last time, I’m GOING to get you out of here. And you will learn to never doubt me again.” He thought about accompanying this with another gentle touch, but figured that might be overdoing the sentimentality angle. The last thing he needed was this devotion being mistaken for an act of love or anything. (It was only an overwhelming desire to help the person closest to him out of an embarrassing and uncomfortable situation as soon as humanly or inhumanly possible, which was nowhere near what love was.) “So the way I see it, going back is about as productive as going forward. So what we need to do is pick a direction and commit to it.”

Now Snatcher’s tone was dry as granite: “You’re going to insist we attempt FORWARD again, aren’t you?”

“I mean, that WOULD solve all our problems at once,” Roman reminded him. “Also, I think I’ve been coming at this from the wrong angle.”

“From the wrong – and whatever is THAT supposed to mean?”

“You trust me?”

Snatcher sighed. “For better or worse, I suppose I do.”

“Good. So you’ll try forward again.”

“It’s not going to work.”

“Okay,” Roman told him, “see, if you come at it with that attitude, you’re DEFINITELY not going anywhere. You have to actually believe in this and put some elbow grease into it, NOT being held back by being sure this isn’t gonna work, or, and I do hate to throw this ultimatum at you, you ARE stuck there forever.”

Another sigh, audible through the wall. “Very well.”

“I’m sorry? What was that?” Roman said teasingly.

Snatcher knew what he wanted, and he supposed Roman was right – if he didn’t actually think he could make it, well, then, he wouldn’t try so hard, and he’d land up right there where he was and not an inch in either direction. “It’s got to work this time. We’ll have another go, then?”

“THAT’S the spirit.” Roman did give him another pat. “Okay, so like last time, more squeezing, more wiggling. Got it?”

“Yes. And you?”

Roman turned himself about, seat planted on the floor and back to Snatcher. He then leaned back, his shoulders and upper back resting on Snatcher’s hindquarters. Now, this was much better. By digging in his heels, he could put his whole body into it. “I think this is gonna work.”

Snatcher had flushed completely. So now his case was at the level where Roman needed to fully angle like that – well, it wasn’t any use going over old insecurities in the current situation. “On your count.”

“And let’s make sure we’re synced this time. Do we go on three, or do I say three and we go?”

“Not this debate, Torchwick.”

“It’s an important question right now.”

Snatcher thought it over. “Just begin on three. The sooner the better. After all, it has exceeded five minutes.”

“This time it’ll work!” Roman argued. “On three, you squeeze tight and I’ll push hard, and, if all goes well, you’ll just slide right on through. And all is going to go well.”

“Right,” Snatcher replied, hoping desperately. He braced his hands on the wall, hoping this would be the last time; his wrists so ached.

After a deep breath, Roman counted out, “One…two…THREE!”

He leaned his entire back against Snatcher, feet braced, his whole body heaving and heaving. Snatcher rocked his hips back and forth fervently, clenching tightly.

It wasn’t as easy as promised. For a moment, it seemed they were right back at the stalemate. Then, giving a guttural groan through clenched teeth, Roman shoved just a little harder, and they both felt the minor shift.

“Okay, good!” Roman declared. “That was a budge! Now - if we could just - keep doing that - ”

Snatcher pressed his exhaustion, squirming like a worm, hearing the imposing creak-creak of the frame again as it denied him passage. Though he knew Roman was doing his best, he felt that he himself was moreso giving his all, and, in desperation, called out, “PUSH, Torchwick, PUSH!”

“You – make it sound – like I’m giving birth – “

“TORCHWICK, DO NOT.”

“Okay, okay!” Roman groaned, putting perhaps a little more back into his efforts. “Just…keep squeezing…squeeze…squeeze…”

Back and forth they asked of each other, to push, to squeeze, and now it seemed to be for something more than naught. Roman had expected it to end in a climactic sort of pop in which Snatcher would all at once be on the other side, but it was slower going than that, less than inch-by-inch. Just a little bit of give here, then a little bit more.

Snatcher, meanwhile, hadn’t accounted for how trying to force through would escalate the discomfort into actual pain. They were too far to stop now, and yet Snatcher wished he could, for it was agony to be stuffed into an aperture not meant to accommodate him, to have his physical boundaries compressed to almost the breaking point. (Could there be a breaking point?) Slowly, bit by bit, enduring the tight fit. After all, now that he’d gotten – they’d gotten – his backside into the frame, well, its width ensured he was all the more wedged unless given a fair amount of help.

Toward the end, Roman yelled again, “SQUEEZE!”, and Snatcher, feeling the conclusion nigh, clenched and tightened as he wiggled desperately. He responded in turn with “PUSH!”, and Roman found just a bit more in him, pressing back.

At last, it was all of him. Snatcher practically collapsed on the ground the moment he realized he was free. He brought his legs through the frame, standing up in the room he’d just taken an eternity to enter.

Then Roman came slithering through the door, all too easily, and as Snatcher set about replacing his hat on his head, he refused to look Roman in the eye at first.

Roman clapped a hand on his shoulder. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

“Speak for yourself,” Snatcher muttered, turning away from him.

“And what did we learn?” Roman asked.

“Not to take such foolish risks.”

“I was going more for something about not doubting me.” Roman then paused, reaching around with his other hand to take Snatcher’s chin and turn it back toward him, forcing eye contact.

Then he gave Snatcher the gentlest of kisses, an unspoken reassurance, perhaps an apology. The hand on Snatcher’s shoulder repositioned around to lightly rub at his uppermost back. That hand traveled downward, partly because it wanted to, partly because Roman knew Snatcher must be thinking several unpleasant things about his shape and he knew that the best way to chase those thoughts out was with a casual caress.

When he reached a certain point, however, Snatcher flinched away from him, breaking the kiss. Roman looked at him quizzically, and he responded sheepishly, “That area’s still rather…tender.”

“Ohhh,” Roman realized.

“I suppose I’ll take this as incentive to lose a few pounds,” Snatcher muttered.

“Please don’t,” Roman said reflexively.

His sincerity caught Snatcher off guard. Why did he keep doubting, after all this time, that Roman wouldn’t want him to change a bit in the physical sense? (Though after that incident, it really was surprising to consider. Roman Torchwick was a surprising man.) Snatcher stated with renewed vigor, “The sooner we put all THAT behind us, the better. Now, where’s the way out of this blasted room…”

“You might want this.” Roman was holding his scroll back out toward him.

And as though ordained by fate, the scroll rang.

Roman answered it without waiting for Snatcher to have any say despite his ownership of the phone. “What is UP?” he said jauntily.

“Funny choice of words,” Wuya responded. “Though we’ll save why for later. Mim and I just wanted to check in and see how progress was coming.”

“Oh, yeah,” Roman lied, “we’ve covered a lot of ground, all right.”

“What an interesting world!” Mim chirped. “All of the flowers that offer to change your size for a magical barter…though you’ve had enough time to get that far. You’ve obviously seen them.”

“Of course we have,” Snatcher said brusquely, not picking up on the hint.

“And the laws of gravity here!” Mim went on. “Why, when Wuya and I first arrived, we found ourselves in a very bizarre room with a quaint little table! And now, a few growings and shrinkings later…”

She trailed off in a fit of giggles.

“What Mim is trying to say,” Wuya said smugly, “is that this is the sort of world where it isn’t impossible to end up on the ceiling of a room you passed through earlier, only in miniature.”

“And this affects us how?” Roman asked.

Mim was now in peals of laughter. “Look up,” Wuya demanded.

Roman and Snatcher glanced at the ceiling. Two small human figures awaited them there, one waving teasingly and the other doubled over in laughter.

Snatcher blanched completely. “Will my torment never CEASE?”

“We saw everything,” Wuya told him. “And filmed most of it. Your timing couldn’t have been better.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO FORGET YOU WITNESSED ANY OF IT AND DELETE THAT FILM IMMEDIATELY!” Snatcher barked.

“Ohhh, I’m so scared,” Wuya said sarcastically.

“You know, you two are pretty tiny right now,” Roman observed. “Not a stretch to think that I could, you know, reach up there and knock you both down where you can more easily be STOMPED TO DEATH.”

“All right,” Wuya relented, “we’ll let it go. We’ll even wait here until you can catch up. The door’s right across from where you came in. Don’t even bother with the locked one.”

Roman and Snatcher looked across to where Wuya had indicated.

“See you soon,” Wuya said in a rather ominous tone before disconnecting.

Two doorways lay before them. One was quite small, rabbit-sized, and locked with a door handle that was snoring, because of course it was. The other was a simple square archway, with no complications other than being even narrower than the one the pair had just passed through – so much so that Roman would have to struggle a fair bit to get past.

“Are you fucking KIDDING ME?” Roman yelled at the door.

“You know,” Wuya said as she turned to Mim, “a good friend would tell them that the potion on the table would shrink them down more than enough.”

“Too bad we’re not good friends!” Mim cackled.

The two women settled back, eager to watch this play out.


End file.
